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I am selfless in my pursuit of doing entertaining things for you, dear reader. Sometimes, anyway.

Yesterday we went to the Dorset Knob Throwing Competition.

Have you ever thrown a Dorset Knob? I have. I drew the line at pinning one on the Cerne Abbas Giant though. They’re tiny hard biscuit slash bread roll slash bun things, should your culinary knowledge have failed you at this point. They’re only made at one bakery, near Bridport, and frankly I can see why.

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It was rather a lovely day out. The sun shone, and the band played, and the Morris dancers jingled, and the bells fell off the clogs of one of the Clog Dancers.

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There was also a food fair. I did not shirk my responsibility: I ate cheese, both on Knob and off; nibbled on sushi and crab; and drooled over the most amazing looking tart.

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I had a conversation about the ease of smoking venison chorizo in a barrel.

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Then I had a rather fine burger sitting in the sunshine, debated the wisdom of bringing back some crab and lobster and decided it was a bit risky. They looked beautifully tempting, but we didn’t think they would like the car journey home.

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So I bought rather a lot of cheese instead. At least that can’t escape and I won’t have to murder it.

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